


Midnight Flight or "How and What in Italian".

by Vanimelda4



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Break Up, But with a happy ending, Fluff, Italian, M/M, Softness, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 17:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19255735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanimelda4/pseuds/Vanimelda4
Summary: Teenage John and Sherlock have recently broken up.To get away from all the emotions that come with that John decides to go on a school trip to Italy....but....when Sherlock's your ex-boyfriend, things never go the way you plan....





	Midnight Flight or "How and What in Italian".

John is slightly out of breath as he makes his way through the narrow aisle of the airplane.  
The backpack that currently serves as his carry on luggage is haphazardly slung over his shoulder in an attempt to not hit the people that are already seated in the face with it. 

He is late. 

One of the last people to board the plane. 

He almost didn't make it. 

His train was delayed and then he had all kinds of trouble navigating Heathrow as he ran through it in a panicked frenzy.  
But he's here now.  
Only slightly out of breath and slightly sticky with sweat.  
He finds he doesn't really care. He's on a plane and he's about to fly to Italy.  
If he ignores the reason why he's on this trip in the first place he can even feel a small bit of excitement.....almost. 

The school he goes to has a program where students travel across Europe to stay for a couple of weeks at a random, foreign family's house to work there, learn the language and learn more about the culture. 

He's never really been interested in going because, well, what could he possibly find out there that would be better than what he already had at home.  
But now.....now he's about to work for 4 weeks on a vineyard in a small Italian town called Montaione.  
John doesn't speak a word of Italian.  
In fact, he's never even been to Italy before.  
That's why, to prepare, last week he bought a small guidebook called “How and What in Italian”.  
John heaves a heavy sigh as he makes his way further down the rows and rows of seats towards the back of the plane. He has suddenly realized he's left that handy, little guidebook at home. On the coffee-table.  
Brilliant.  
Just great.  
The family where he'll be staying does not speak a single word of English.  
He knows this because he's already had one extremely awkward phone-call with the lady of the house.  
In his head he tries to come up with a non-embarrassing way to mime the phrase: “you are out of toilet paper.”  
He draws a blank. 

Finally John reaches his assigned seat. He's on the aisle seat of a set of two seats at the back of the plane. The other seat, next to the window, is already taken. It's occupant is currently sitting wrapped up in a blanket, slouched against the plane's small window.  
He seems to be fast asleep.  
At least John assumes it's a “he”. All he can see at the moment of his travel companion for the next two and a half hours is a bit of dark, curly hair. 

It reminds him of sherlock.  
John swallows away a sudden lump in his throat as he hoists his bag in the, already overstuffed, overhead compartment. 

He does not want to think about Sherlock right now. 

Sherlock is the reason he is even on this trip.  
Or, rather, the fact that they broke up a couple of weeks ago is.  
If he thinks about it, which he really doesn't want to do, their break-up is pretty much all Sherlock's fault.  
If he had just.....  
If he had said........  
Maybe......  
Maybe, John.....  
No.....

He firmly closes both the compartment holding his belongings and his current thought-process.  
He is on this flight to get away from all the drama. Get away from his thoughts of Sherlock. To not have to think about him literally _all_ the time.  
A change of scenery will do him good.  
Probably.  
Maybe. 

As he sits down in his seat his elbow slightly bumps into the man on the seat next to him.  
John can't really help it. These seats are just so narrow. He's flying coach after all.  
He already has his mouth halfway open to apologize but it appears there is no need for it.  
His companion just sleeps on.  
John has to admit he is slightly impressed by the man's ability to just sleep anywhere.  
Yet another thing that reminds him of Sherlock.  
He once found Sherlock asleep at their kitchen table in the middle of an experiment. Test tube still in his hand. The liquid that had spilled out of it already eating away at the tips of his curls.  
It had taken weeks to grow out the bleached ends.  
John had made fun of him for it every opportunity he saw.  
He finds himself smiling at the memories of happier times but when he realizes what he's doing he just groans and rubs his eyes.  
That's not them.  
Not anymore. 

He decides to just fasten his seatbelt, shouldn't be long before take-off now, and read the leaflet of safety instructions he finds together with some magazines on the back of the seat in front of him.  
He did bring a book to read but it's currently tucked away safely in his bag....In the overhead compartment....and he is definitely _not_ getting up again. 

Pretty soon the plane starts taxiing, takes off, something that always manages to make John's stomach go a bit queasy, and the stewardesses repeat the safety instructions he's already read.  
When John looks to his side he sees that the man sitting next to him is still very much asleep.  
Unbelievable.  
John uses his time to take a better look at the man. Maybe he can deduce who he's traveling with now that a pleasant conversation doesn't seem to be in the cards.  
The man's hair really does look eerily similar to Sherlock's.  
The same dark colour, same curly texture to it, same silky smoothness as the cabin lights reflect off of it.  
He leans slightly forward to get a better look at the man's face.  
High cheekbones......just like Sherlock.  
Slightly long, but elegant nose.......just like Sherlock.  
Lips.......

John feels his throat go dry. 

No way. 

Not possible. 

Not.......

No........

But he knows the truth. He's seen this face too many times.  
Asleep or awake.  
His hands start to shake and he feels suddenly overwhelmed by a whole mix of emotions.  
He is shocked, surprised, happy, sad, angry....all at the same time. 

“Goddammit!”, he says. Maybe a little bit too loud, he realizes, as several passengers seated close by turn around with concerned expressions on their faces.  
John gives them an apologetic smile.  
He makes sure to speak his next word slightly softer. 

“Sherlock”, he says. Not a question. Just a statement. Because of course it's him. Of course it is. Because...why not......Of-bloody-fucking-course. 

Sherlock finally drops the act of pretending to sleep as he sits up straight. The blanket slides down to his knees. 

“Took you long enough. I was starting to worry I'd have to lay like that for the rest of the flight”, Sherlock says. 

“What are you doing here?”, John tries his best to keep his voice down and not to sound as frazzled and overwhelmed as he is but he doubts he's doing a very good job. 

Sherlock just shifts his eyes from left to right and gives John that look he always gives him when, apparently, he has stated something so obvious that Sherlock isn't quite sure how to respond. 

“I'm going to Italy”, Sherlock finally says. 

John bangs the back of his head on the headrest of his chair and groans.  
“I know”, he says, “but why? Why, in the name of all that is holy, are you going to Italy?”

Sherlock gives him the same look again. 

John just groans again. 

“You really didn't give me much of a choice”, Sherlock says. 

“I didn't.........?”

“We had an argument. You broke up with me. We needed to talk about it but instead you decided to avoid me and run away to Italy. What was I supposed to do, John?”

“I didn't run away.”

Once again Sherlock shifts his eyes from left to right and gives John the same look. 

“Okay”, John says, “maybe I ran away a little bit.”

Sherlock gives him a radiant smile. The same smile he smiles when a complicated experiment goes just the way he predicted it would go or when he solves a very difficult mathematical equation......John feels his stomach do a strange flip.  
He might throw up.....it might just be turbulence....it might be something else.....

“You are here to talk about our break-up?”, he asks. 

Sherlock nods.

“What do you want me to say, Sherlock?”

“Why?”

“Just why?”

Sherlock nods again. John groans again and bangs his head, once again, on the back of his chair.  
The person seated behind him gives a polite cough. 

“I don't know......”, he starts saying, only, he does know, of course he does. And Sherlock deserves the truth. He deserves so much more......God.....he is just all kinds of confused right now.  
“It's you”, he says, “how you reacted....or didn't react.....you should have said......something.......maybe.....maybe it's not all you. Well, of course it's not all you. I've done things....well....one thing. I never should have....I never _would_ have if it weren't for.......you know that right?”  
He gives Sherlock a pleading look. Hoping his boyfriend......ex-boyfriend......can make sense out of the jumble of words he's just thrown at him.  
Sherlock just looks confused.  
Clearly not then. 

“What are you talking about?”, Sherlock asks, “I should have said something....when?”

John feels his face flushing. He'd rather not be reminded of that particular incident but since they'll be stuck in close proximity for at least 2 more hours he might as well bare all. 

He still decides to lower his voice for good measure.  
“When I kissed that girl”, he says. 

This time it's Sherlock who throws back his head as he lets out an aggravated groan. The person seated behind them coughs again. Slightly louder this time. 

“I can't believe you're still bothered by that”, Sherlock says. Rather loudly, as far as John is concerned, and so he shushes him before responding. 

“It's kind of a big deal, Sherlock.”

“It's really not.”

“This is exactly what I'm talking about. I kissed another girl while we were together and you don't even care!”

“Of course not.”

“How can you be so calm about this? I was a horrible boyfriend.”

“O-kay.....just to be clear.....”

John nods. 

“Is this why you broke up with me?”

John nods again. 

“Because you kissed another girl and I didn't get mad at you for it.”

John decides to nod again.....there's slightly less conviction behind it this time. 

Sherlock just groans again and rubs his hands across his face. He mumbles something behind his hands that John can't quite make out. When he lowers them again he turns his body towards John, at least, as far as the narrow seat will allow him and looks him straight in the eyes.  
For the life of him John finds he cannot look away. 

“Okay', Sherlock says, “then tell me this: did you want to kiss her?”

John pulls a face.  
“Oh, God no.”

“Did you like kissing her?”

“No!”, John feels almost insulted now, “we had had that argument about you leaving acids in the fridge right next to the milk and so I went out to the pub and had a drink. She was there and started buying me drinks and I ended up getting pretty drunk and then all of a sudden she was right there....in my face.....her lips on mine....and....somehow....I kind of felt like I......owed her.....something......it felt rude to push her away.....and so I just.....let her.....I'm a horrible boyfriend.”

Once again there's a smile on Sherlock's face and once again John's stomach does a little flip. He might actually be sick. 

“What?”, he says. 

“Well.....”, Sherlock says, “it just seems to me that, if anything, you should have filed a report against that girl for taking advantage of you in a vulnerable situation.....John....that's assault.”

“Sherlock, this is not some kind of joke.”

“Am I laughing?”

“A little bit....yeah.....”

They are both silent for a moment. Just long enough for John to think the last couple of weeks over and how he might have....maybe....overreacted just a little bit.  
He had just felt like such a scumbag.  
He knows he's Sherlock's first.  
His first of many things.  
Sherlock does not have many friends. Does not let people in easily. Does not trust easily. He had just felt like he had betrayed that hard earned trust in the vilest of ways. Apparently that was not how Sherlock had seen it......he feels his face go red again. 

“I'm so sorry”, he says. 

Sherlock's smile widens.  
“Now, was that so hard?”, he says. 

John finds himself smiling in return and as he gestures at the plane around them he says: “Evidently.....yes.”

Sherlock actually chuckles as he sits back in his seat and places his hand on the joined armrest that separates their seats. John places his own hand on top of his and intertwines their fingers as he finally exhales and rests his head on Sherlock's shoulder. 

“I really hope there's not some poor guy who got bumped off of the plane just so you could get that seat”, he says, “that seat was taken when I made my reservation.”

“Oh, don't worry”, the sound of Sherlock's voice rumbles through his chest and head where their bodies connect and the sensation is both familiar and comforting, “I've had him upgraded to business class.”

“Could you not have had _us_ upgraded to business class?”John says as his knees bump into the seat in front of him and he looks ahead at the cramped, seemingly endless, rows that make up coach. 

Sherlock is quiet for a moment but John knows he's being given “The Look”. 

“Are you sure this is what you want to talk about now”, Sherlock says, “pick your battles wisely, John.'

But there is no malice in his voice. He just chuckles again and at the sound of it John buries himself more securely against Sherlock's side and closes his eyes as he lets out a contented sigh. 

Both of them are quiet for a moment as the engines drone on.

Finally it is John who speaks again as he opens his eyes:  
“Just out of curiosity”, he says, “where are you going to stay in Italy.”

“Oh....my parents have a holiday house over there. I'm going to stay there....with you.”

Sure. Of course the Holmes family owns property in Italy.  
He tries his very best not to show his excitement about the idea of spending time with Sherlock once they land. He's probably not succeeding because Sherlock squeezes his fingers gently. 

“I should call the family where I'm supposed to be staying as soon as we touch down then.”

“Oh...no need....I already called them before I got on the plane.”

“You? You called them?”

Sherlock just hums. 

“They only speak Italian....”

“A good thing I speak Italian too then.”

John finds he's not even surprised. Somehow, Sherlock being fluent in Italian seems to be the most logical thing about everything that has happened today.  
He closes his eyes again.  
“Of course you do.”

Sherlock chuckles again.  
“Sei un idiota”, Sherlock says. 

John furrows his brow.  
“That doesn't sound very positive.”

“Adoro gli idioti”, Sherlock continues. 

John scrunches up his nose.  
“I don't really like the sound of that either.”

All of a sudden something square and slightly flat is dropped in his lap.  
He opens his eyes to look down and see what it is.  
It's a small book titled “How and What in Italian”.  
John shakes his head and squeezes their fingers again as he is unable to suppress a sudden giggle.  
“I doubt either of those sentences are in there.”

“You'll just have to look.”

John closes his eyes again as he leans himself back against Sherlock. It feels good. He's missed this. So much. He's missed it like a drowning man misses breathing. They fit. In everything. This is right. This is.....

“Ti amo”, Sherlock says. 

“I understood that one.”

And then John opens his eyes again and places a soft kiss on raven-dark curls.  
There are words in the kiss. Sentences. Their meaning clear to both of them. No “How and What” guidebook needed. 

_I'm sorry_ the words say

and

_I love you too_

_Ti amo_

_Always_

**Author's Note:**

> As about 80% of everything I write, this story too, is inspired by a song.  
> "Midnight Flight" by Canyon City.  
> Give it a listen if you feel like it. 
> 
> Once again: Thank you very much for reading. It means the world to me.
> 
> A small disclaimer: I am not Italian and don't speak Italian so any mistakes in grammar or spelling are purely my own and I would like to apologize for them.


End file.
